Story Ideas
by kujikiri21
Summary: Ideas for future stories
1. Chapter 1

Story Idea 1

The warrior watched as the pathetic Konoha wanna-be kunoichi duked it out on the floor. His tanned face was lined in disgust at the despicable performance these...fangirls put on. His sword hand ached to take the lives on these women who disdained and brought low the worth of those who had poured blood, sweat and tears into reaching the goal of Chuunin.

"If this is the worth of Konoha," he muttered to himself as the sorry excuse for a bout was brought to a thankful close as his bright green eyes flashed maliciously behind the fringe of his raven's wing black hair, "then I am very disappointed."

As the fool girls were transported off the battleground, the warrior's eyes travelled around the rest of the room, taking in viable threats to him. After all, as a warrior or shinobi with no team or village to be beholden to or be supported by, he was on his own and had to make his own way. Indeed, the only way he was able to participate in this exam as a travelling-nin was because he was vouched for by Konoha's patron, the Fire Daimyo.

Even then, as his eyes flicked towards various empty spots in the room, the hosting village trusted him as about as far as one of the wannabes could have thrown their monument. That was fine with him, he felt the same.

Still, he thought as the electronic lottery rolled once more, he needed the publicity the Chuunin Exams could provide if he wanted to have the chance to be approached with more lucrative contracts.

Beep!

TenTen of Konoha vs Hikaru Uzumaki

"Well," he grumbled once more as he made his way to the floor with the kunoichi wearing the sleeveless pink shirt, heedless of the comotion that spread amongst the rest of the Konoha Genin, centred around the orange wearing blonde, "time to get to work."

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Naruto's eyes were wide and incoherent words came from his flapping jaws.

Uzumaki. Uzumaki. The name he bore and was supposedly given as an orphan.

And now another was using it.

Hope, fear, anger, confusion and more clouded his mind. Another bore the same name as him and, he hoped, may have a connection to him. A family member that was long lost but now found.

As the others around him mumbled in puzzlement, he eyed the one who had his name.

A bit older than he was by about two or three years, taller as well. The raven black hair was tied in a firm braid behind him, leaving only a small fringe that covered his forhead if he stood upright. Bright but sharp green eyes practically glowed out of the tanned face. His choice of clothing was somewhat different to normal shinobi, strong combat boots instead of sandals, long black pants, a black frontal breast plate with an odd white design, fingerless gloves with a metal plate over the back of the palm and long red coat coat that covered the entirety of his back and arms. Oddly enough, he carried no weapons save for an empty straight sword sheath slung over his back with a baldric and a fiercely painted skull mask at his belt.

He honestly looked nothing like Naruto.

A well of disappointment filled the jinchuuriki's heart. 'Just a coincidence,' he thought bitterly.

A clap of a hand on his shoulder caused him to briefly turn to its owner. Kakashi looked him in eyes, a first considering his Uchiha favouritism, and seemed to convey sympathy.

Naruto turned back, flicking off the hand of his piss poor teacher. Too little, too late.

Even if it was only coincidence that their names matched, he was rather interested to see the strength of this person.

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Hikaru waited patiently as the proctor went through the details for the match, having already heard them several time before, he instead studied his opponent.

Above average height and sleekly muscled with evidence of calluses on her finger tips and palms. A stance that was ready to move instantly. She was already proving to be better than the previous two.

Lets see if she show some true skill.

"Hajime," the proctor yelled.

The girl swiftly leapt back at pace thar easily outstripped the previous, giving herself some room, as her left hand dived into the kunai pouch on the opposite hip and threw.

Not moving an inch, Hikaru watched as the kunai flew at a blistering pace, thrown by the hands of master and cutting the air before them with a shrill whistle, aiming for his vital points.

Ten feet... he raised his left hand at the five knives.

Five feet... his handmade as if grasp something before him.

One foot... his hand blurred.

Simultaneous blinks came from the genin before him and above him as his then empty hand was suddenly filled with the thrown kunai. Each of his fingers in the rings.

"Well thrown," he complimented his surprised opponent, "each of those were aimed to either to kill or grievously wound in such a way that it would be generally impossible to catch them all as I did and instead have to block or dodge."

He chuckled slightly at the miffed expression on the woman's face.

"That type of accuracy is rarely seen even amongst the best of marksman," he continued as he plucked each of the kunai from his fingers as his eyes slowly grew hard, "It makes me wonder... is accuracy all you have?"

A sudden gesture from his right hand had the kunai in it flying back toward his opponent the same way as they were thrown at him.

Only much much faster.

It was only her vast speed training with her teammates that allowed her to dodge the nigh invisible speeding projectile. Even then, they nipped her clothes and flesh as she frantically dodged.

BOOM!

An explosion behind made her glimpse backward and had her eyes bulging. Where the kunai had passed her and struck the wall were massive wholes showing the corridor behind them. This Hikaru had thrown her kunai back so hard that they had shattered the wall they had hit. Tenten's eyes hardened, that wasn't possible without some type of jutsu yet she hadn't sensed any build up of chakra despite her being pretty skilled at doing so.

This match had gotten much more dangerous for her. Those would have killed her if they had hit. No more time for messing around, go for the win with my trump.

"Good instincts as well," Hikaru continued to compliment, "you are quite fast."

Tenten snorted as she pulled two scrolls from her hip pouch, raising an eyebrow from the still unmoving warrior. "I've had to be," she growled as she unrolled them, "my sensei is Gai Maito."

"Youth!" yelled the Green Beast and his Mini-Me.

Hikaru winced and sweatdropped, "You have my condolences,"

"You can give your condolences," she rumbled tossing the scrolls high in the air, "after you are filled with steel!" leaping up between them and beginning to spin, "Twin Rising Dragons."

Hikaru's opponent began unsealing various weapons and launching them towards at a terrific speed. Warhammers, spears, halberds, swords, axes, knives and so much for filled the air with a rain of steel. If they had hit it would be the end of her opponent.

But they didn't.

To her disbelief, along with the onlookers, Hikaru merely batted away the weapons with an empty left hand, the rest of his body unmoving while his hand blurred redirecting all her weapons to his sides and on the floor.

By the time she was finished her attack, broken weapons littered the stone floor on both sides of the odd nin. She was officially freaked.  
Hikaru looked at her in disappointment.

"Your marksmanship failed once, whatever made you think it would triumph if you tried again?"

Tenten grinned for a moment as she held her hands and arms wide as light glinted off of thin wires, "This," she answered bringing her arms together.

The metal on the floor leapt towards the now bored Hikaru, intending to pierce his body with the shrapnel it was made of.

Only to be swallowed by a golden light.

Tenten could only watch in disbelief as the remains of her weapons all vanished into a field of golden light that sprung up around her adversary, her wires falling limp as if the connections to her weapons were cut.

Abruptly as it came into being, the light vanished leaving only an irritated Hikaru staring balefully at a dumbfounded girl.

"Your childish stubbornness is beginning to irritate me child," he rasped, his voice steely, making her flinch, "your weapons were destroyed almost beyond repair and still you used them against me." Hikaru snorted in slight disdain, "that shows a great lack of respect for the steel that could one day save your life. This proves to me that you are one of the most deplorable of warriors. An Owner."

Tenten flushed with rage. "I am not deplorable. I will be-"

"Little more than a footnote or less in history," Hikaru snapped at her, interrupting her tirade before it began, "I heard you proclaim in the previous matches that you were a weapon's mistress. A master in other words," he barked a harsh mocking laugh, "What a fool you are. You are no more a master than an ant could be the ruler of dragons."

An angry kunoichi launched herself at the one who mocked her in with a taijutsu attack, only for her leg to swatted aside hard enough to make her spin until her back faced her opponent. The left hand that had blocked all of her attacks was then at her lower back and shoved.

She flew fast and awkwardly along then stone until she crashed into the statue. Pain filled her mind as she crumpled where she hit. Gathering her senses she found that arrogant prick still speaking.

"With weapons use there are three normal types of people." He lectured.

"One is the role of the maker. They are ones who dedicate their heart and soul to making the weapons that carry their will or made for a single purpose. Their heart is ruled by the flame and their mind by the metal they shape. To them, good or bad, creation is their life. And thus their creations are made powerful. Muramasa and his bloodthirstiness, Masamune and his desire for peace are examples of this.

"The second is the role of the master. Through blood, sweat and tears. Through pain and sorrow, glory and triumph. They wield the weapon at their side until they reach the point that it becomes an intrinsic part of them and they, part of it. They complete each other to point of being inseparable. Some reach such mastery that even the merest blade of grass in their hands becomes something that could the greatest of weapons made. Miyamoto Musashi, The Sword Saint, is an example of this.

"Then," he sneered to the captivated audience, "we come to owners. Scavengers and vultures who haunt the battlefields or pompous princes resting on the laurels of their forefathers. They have no respect for the blades and weapons that aided their previous owners with their great powers. They merely take the weapons and use them as their own, without training for the great skills that the weapon has inherited and rely on its great power rather than their own. Worms they are for doing this. An excellent example of such people would be Rokusho Aoi, former Konoha-nin and present Ame-nin, who stole the Raijin-no-Ken of your venerated Nidaime."

A stir went up among the rest of the Konoha-nin and the Hokage was leaning forward with narrowed eyes at the travelling-nin currently fighting, wondering at the information that he had and how he obtained it.

Hikaru ignored them and kept speaking to his opponent.

"You used brilliant weapons that were made by an exceedingly gifted craftsman. Some of the best I have seen outside of some specialised weapons and you used them like they were disposable chopsticks at a ramen stand," he ignored the 'oi!' from the orange wearing self-proclaimed Uzumaki.

Hikaru drew himself up as an invisible wind briefly lifted his hair, exposing a lightning like scar for a moment.

"For such beliefs," he annouced as golden circles appeared above him, weapons slightly emerging from them making everyone's eyes widen and Tenten scramble to her feet, "feel the wrath of Steel!"

The weapons shot forward.

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Harry Potter / Fate/Stay Night / Naruto

Basically Harry is raised by Kiritsugu at an early age and after his death Gilgamesh takes an interest in him, enters and leaves the Wizarding World after he finds some details amongst his mother's possessions in the family vault. He participates in the Fifth Holy Grail War with a different Saber. Unlimited Blade Works Route, to a point . He traces his mother's family to an Uzumaki clan and with the help of the goblins enters the Elemental countries that had been cut off from the rest of the world by a massive bounded field. He searches for what family he has whilst taking mercenary contracts like his adopted father before him.

He is not Shirou but has the similar but not identical alignments to him. So expect him to act differently.

Well what do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

Story Idea 2

The cool spring rain fell gently upon the fully cloaked rider as his mount gently carried him down the Tristain highway. Easy steps, unhurried and unconcerned with time. Much like the black cloaked rider.

The hidden face sat straight upon his tall white mounts back, his posture comfortable, evidence of the great equestrian skills he had and vast experience he had using it.

He smiled slightly as his destination came into view through the slight haze. Its great white walls creating a pentagon with a tower at each if the points with a even greater tower placed directly in the middle.

"So this is where she is," the man said softly to himself, his emerald green eyes, hidden by the low hood, glittering with interest before chuckling, "hahahahaha, this will be quite the surprise but it will good to see her again, don't you think?" His last statement was directed to the majestically golden horned cervine he rode, with a good deal of affection.

The great beast, half again as tall as the greatest of oxen, merely rumbled placidly, its large royal purple eyes unconcerned with the current state of affairs.

The rider, seeming to understand the rumbles, laughed aloud before urging his mount forward towards the great gate, eager to enter and see a good friend.

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Saito was confused.

Not that this was an unusual thing. Considering that less than a week ago he had been a student (albeit not the best one) at a semi-decent Japanese high school and had, since then, been pulled through a weird green portal as a summon, bound as a familiar to what was, to his initial disbelief, a pink haired student mage, a female no less, which incidentally hurt like all hell, in a completely different world (the two moons sort of gave that away) that was technologically back in the Dark Ages and, to top it off, fought a duel with an animated Suit of armour summoning womanizer, somehow won, got badly hurt and managed to obtain a (crudely) talking sword.

And that was just the highlights.

Needless to say, 'confused' was becoming a default state of mind.

About the only constant in this while ridiculous business was his so called 'Mistress'.

She was petite, maybe five and a half foot, short even for a Japanese girl, never mind this place. A heart shaped face that was predominant in most healthy females, though hers was a bit sharper though still round. Her eyes were a rich chocolate brown that turned almost flint like when she was angry. Her pink hair was relatively long with curls at the front and reached mid-back but was tied in a simple ponytail. He had never seen the shape of her figure due to the billowing robes that were the uniform for the Academy and he was not stupid enough to ask.

Her personality was quite different to many of those supposed nobles in the place. She was nice, if a bit imperious, and had treated him, her supposed magical slave, as though he were a friend she had just met and an equal partner, despite the cajoling and laughs of various others who treated him as if he were sub-human.

She swiftly ended such words and actions with a glare so cold that ice, in mid-winter, in Antarctica would have seemed warm in comparison.

They shut up quickly after that and hadn't dared to approach them after his fluke defeat of the fop, Guiche. Despite her being called 'Zero' due to her lack of success in spells, she had mastered her explosive failures into a formidable weapon all its own and they had no desire to be on the receiving end of one.

Again, anyway.

'All in all' he thought as he sat in on the Earth magic lesson with his mage, eying her from the corner of his eye, 'I could have had worse happen to me.'

A firm series of raps on the classroom door interrupted his musings as, along with the noble students, surprising Miss Chevreuse and causing her to stride over and open the door, only to step back with a start.

Not that anybody blamed her considering the intimidating sight before her.

Standing at seemingly just under seven feet, the black cloaked and hooded figure seemed to loom in the doorway like a wraith, menacing and alien without even trying. To further enhance the image, an unsheathed silver sword, studded with rubies on the hilt, hung in direct sight upon his belt, one of his fingerless gloved hands keeping the cloak out of the way and resting upon the pommel in a casual manner as he leaned slightly on the doorframe, the solid leather boots tapping on the stone floor at the end of his black leggings. His emerald eyes, almost hidden beneath the deep cowl, resting firmly on the slightly scared teacher's face, a tiny glint of amusement drifted through them before vanishing and leaving them as as cold and blank as a still pond.

It was an unnerving sight for most.

"Greetings, Madam," he greeted, his voice soft and deep, giving the impression of velvet, though this velvet definitely hid steel, and gave a slight bow, "my apologies for interrupting you class but I have need of one of your pupils."

The middle-aged teacher seemed to recover herself, along with the students, and gave a slight blush at such courtly demeanour from such an individual. "Not at all, young man. Though I must ask who you are, who you're looking for and why?"

The question seemed to amuse the man as quicksilver laughter danced in his eyes again before chuckling slightly and pulling back the cowl.

The sight that greeted the curious class, had all bar one stunned.

Raven's wing black hair that was done in a tight braid and long enough to run down into the depths of his dark cloak, piercing emerald eyes set in a sharp raptor like face that was tanned lightly, an indication of long hours working beneath the light of the sun. These features, however, paled into insignificance compared to the bold scar that ran from beneath his left eye, across the bridge of his nose and above his right eyebrow where it terminated next to a slightly paler, though noticed by only those who knew it was there, line of skin shape like a lightning bolt.

All in all, it was a handsome face that had Kirche almost purring in delight and many other girls blushing slightly. The scar only added to his handsome features and gave a more primal air. The boys, on the other hand, were slightly intimidated by his predatory looks.

"My name," the man said with a slight smile as he gazed at his stunned with surprised happiness target, "is Hadrian de la Vallierre and I am looking for my dear little sister, Louise. After all," his smile became a smirk, "is it not the office of an older sibling to greet the younger?"

Louise finally came out of her surprised funk.

CRASH!

"Big Brother!"

SLAM!

With a great yell, she leapt from her seat, after having sent it to the floor, and into her brother's open arms without once touching the stone floor. An impressive feat considering there was easily fifteen mails between her previous position and her current one in the enclosed arms of the proclaimed 'brother'.

A brother, who had saved her life so long ago.

A brother, who had praised and cared for her, so much like Cattelya.

A brother, who had shown her how to change her failures into successes.

A brother, who had brought her mother back from the brink of losing her heart to the 'steel' she had used for so long, with naught but a blade and magic.

A brother, who had accepted being able to be truly called 'her brother'.

A brother, who had been absent from her life for over a year as he searched for a cure for his betrothed's, Cattelya, illness.

A brother, who was now here.

Hadrian, the one called the Spirit Made Flesh, the Twisted Mirror and many other titles, smiled down at his silently weeping little sister and comforted her with slight strokes of his hand upon her hair, the interesting stone broach of a vertical line through a triangle that contained a circle, catching the sunlight for a moment.

The pair were an image of the best of things to the rest of the people in the room.

Happiness, solace, comfort and more were viewed in this interaction.

Yet there was one thing that it shouted above all others.

Family.

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Well guys what do you think?

Probably not my best work but I am attempting to do it some justice.

This is a Familiar of Zero / HP cross. Early in Louise's life, a dimensionally banished Harry who now wanders this strange world, saves her life from an attempted ransom plot. This earned the attention and gratitude of the rest of Vallieres and he begins to interact with the family, more often than not changing it for the better with his very different beliefs.

In regards to Harry's magic, he has obtained the hallows but not in the same way as the books and returned them to Death and received their mark and a fragment of their true power as a thank you. also the horcrux scar had some side effects with the use of magic. In particular, he is able to manipulate spirit element and space manipulation. This falls under void magic in Halkeginia so he is mistaken as a void mage by those 'in the know'.

I have a few ideas on how use this magic and the types of spells he would use. HP Canon burns in hell with this story. His magic also is going to be more like Type-Moon verse Magecraft than a simple swish and flick with a wand foe Harry because he is so different from wizards.

He also does not need and indeed cannot use a wand or other focus. This does not weaken him in any way however.

Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Story Idea 3  
Percy Jackson/ Bleach (minor)  
Post Last Olympian  
There was no Heroes of Olympus but Percy did go on a quest to release Thanatos with his Greek friends and as a result lost his Achilles Curse in order to break the chains.

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It had been almost a year since Olympus had been saved from the hungry hands of Kronos and things had been looking up for the world behind the Mist.

Cabins for the minor gods were being built to house their children, the minor gods themselves were enjoying a more relaxed and free life due to the acknowledgement of their 'upper management', Quests and monster attacks were down due the brouhaha that was the second Titanomachy. It was, all in all, a peaceful year.

For most.

It goes without saying that with good comes the bad. While at higher level things were good, at lower, more personal, levels events were far celebratory for one son of Poseidon, Perseus Jackson.

We find him in his cabin at camp, during the lunch hour, gently rocking a small girl child in his arms, a soft and wistful smile on his face as he fed her from a bottle.

"Hmmm hmmm hmmm," he hummed soft and musically to the girl, his little sister and daughter of Poseidon and the deceased Sally Blofis nee Jackson. Percy's eyes turned away from the cute child and hardened. While he had been on Quest to aid Thanatos, his mother had given birth to the young one, roughly six months after the conclusion of the Titanomachy.

Her marriage to Paul had been celebrated by Percy and his friends but a certain depression had hung over the couple, due to a combination of problems with both Paul and Sally they were unable to conceive together even though both desperately wanted a child, something that Percy supported wholeheartedly. After much discussion the couple had prayed and sacrificed to Percy's father for a child, something that the Sea God had been more than willing to grant.

It was a tough few months as the child granted to the couple grew at the increased rate of most demigods and she was soon in labour in roughly half the time it takes for a regular mortal child. Then she was born.

Although Percy was not there, although he was on Quest, although he was fighting an ancient adversary of the gods in order to release Death from his bindings, at the very moment of her birth. He felt it.

He felt the sea itself rejoice, the world carolled in joy, the ice he fought upon rang like a church bell, spreading the word of the rise of the first Daughter of the Sea in age. His very blood sang and gave him the impetus to end the giant, the world so filled with power that a deity was not needed to strike down the son of Gaia.

But with the joy came anger.

A mere week after the girl had been born, the very day Percy arrived back from Quest, the family was attacked by the Gorgon sisters. Out of revenge for their fallen sister, Stheno and Eurayle slaughtered the the couple, even as they attempted to fight back. Even though they died in the attempt to protect their daughter, they still left their marks on the bodies of the sisters. They had then advanced on the child, sweet revenge in their blackened hearts, only to be halted.

A humanoid shape, glowing with an incandescent bright green aura that filled the doorway to the nursery, preventing them from advancing. Its power was almost crushing to the ugly sisters, their most primal instincts telling to flee and never look back. Its eyes were a roiling flame, a burning sapphire that reflected the hidden and dangerous depths of the deepest seas.

It was Perseus Jackson, enraged and with Anaklusmos in hand, having felt the danger his mortal family was in and, out of sheer desperation, had managed to do what only his father, Poseidon, and brother, Theseus, had done before. Travel via the mist. A form of teleportation that had allowed him to arrive in time to save his sister.

Needless to say, the Gorgons did not live long.

But they had done enough damage and a small form of revenge. The Son of the Sea was never the same after that.

Percy had not wasted time, swiftly collecting what necessities his sister needed and alerting the authorities before giving one more sorrowful glance at the almost destroyed home before vanishing back to Camp.

It was hectic few weeks after that. Funerals to attend which tore his heart and soul, affairs to put in order, particularly the will which split everything down the middle between the two siblings and would not be touched until he was twenty-one (Nico, at Percy's request, had taken on the role of guardian of the estate, despite his age he was still a child of the God of Wealth and had more than a little experience with the financial side of his father's domain, though Annabeth did help with some of it, her curiosity and thirst for knowledge never being quenched) and looking after the young one, who had yet to be named officially.

That had been an experience for the young man. Not having a clue on how to take of children, let alone babies, he had sought the advice of several women that thought would be able to give him some answers.

In particular, Hera and Artemis.

Getting their attention had been difficult but he had a few favours amongst the Olympians that he was able to call in. To say they had been surprised was an understatement, especially given with his very rocky relationship with Hera, but had, with some provisos, been able to show him what to look out for and how to take care of such a small child. The fact that the child, so young and innocent, had smiled and laughed at the two goddesses had probably played a large part in melting their hearts.

In honour of their acceding to his request for help, he had named the young one, Zoe Opis Jackson.

Zoe, for the most loyal Hunter Artemis had ever had and a friend and hero he was honoured to have known.

Opis, as one of the epithets of Hera that seemed to fit the large sea green eyes of his sister.

They had been respectfully honoured by such a naming and secretly keep an eye out for the little Princess and had begun to make some plans for the child's future. Not that Percy or anyone else knew about it.

But that was only the beginning for the young man.

Even with the advice of the goddesses of both Motherhood, women and maiden, it had been a bit of a struggle for Perseus. Being woken up at odd time of night and morning for feeding, changing and other necessities, playing with her, making sure she was always in good health. All of this and more, as well as his chores for the Camp (Chiron and Dionysus had offered to tone down the chores he was given due to compassionate grounds. He had refused but had given his thanks for the thought) and upping his training.

Oh how he upped his training.

He had a drive now, his sister was completely unable to protect herself and was completely reliant on him, even if Annabeth and Grover had helped him out with her. He had lost the invulnerability of the Curse of Achilles when he, Clarisse and Nico had been sent on Quest to free Thanatos, in Alaska, a place beyond the Gods. He no longer had luxury of not worrying about taking a hit and overpowering his enemies. He now had to train if he wanted to be able to come home and greet his baby sister.

Forget a full armour and pack run, he asked the children of Hecate cabin to enchant some strap on weights to weigh ridiculously large amounts ala DBZ. Forget about one on one sparring, he had the whole of Ares cabin come at him at once (he lost abysmally at first but had slowly achieved a degree of skill that had him fighting them to a draw, much to their shock, anger and respect. Last he heard others were having a try at such training much to Chiron's chagrin and Mr.D's enjoyment). He had also begun to craft a form of unarmed combat that complemented his skills and attempting to use his powers in conjunction with it, like Avatar.

He liked his cartoons, sue him.

And it payed dividends.

For whatever reason, he seemed to grow in power at a tremendous rate. Speed, Strength, Stamina were all increasing everyday. His control of his powers were increasing to ridiculous levels to the point that he had to do it privately so as not to endanger anyone. His weapon skill, especially with the Xiphos like Anaklusmos, was considered unparalleled amongst any other camper that had set foot in it since its founding.

But he cared little for the praises.

His mood was more somber compared to the impulsive and sarcastic youth he used to be. His eyes were more analytical and emotions rarely governed his tongue. He rarely joined such fun activities as his duties took precedence. He rarely laughed or smiled anymore.

His appearance had also changed. His once bright sea green eyes darkening to a deep jade bordering on sapphire and just as hard and sharp. Shadows beneath his eyes showed his tiredness and slight exhaustion he always seemed to have now a days as his skin grew slightly darker from the increased training in the hot noon sun as it beamed down on clean shaven and squared jaw. His hair, always at least slightly wild, was now longer, reaching just below his shoulders, in a tight and severe braid. His walk was now more poised and predatory, like a great cat on a hunt, accentuated by his now tightly fitting camp uniform that clung to his developed abdomen and rock solid thighs along with a lack of footwear as he strode across jagged rocks and hot sand as though they were nothing to him.

Many of the new female campers or daughters of Aphrodite nursed a crush on what they believed was a fine specimen of a man. Even some the nymphs that served the camp and various naiads were taken with the obviously strong half-blood. Though some were unnerved by the sometimes primal glint in his eyes that soon vanished to leave the focused but apathetic gaze of his now regular self.

He only really came alive like he used to be around two people. Zoe and Annabeth.

Zoe had been a fairly large hit among the Campers. Never having such a young child among them it had taken some getting used to but they had all adapted and were very protective of the child, nothing compared to Percy of course, but still protective. Even Clarisse and Mr.D were taken in by the small child and were willing, with some false grumbling, to look after her for a time if her brother asked. The child's innocent cheer had helped some of the more irritable and harsh campers let down their barriers. All in all, she was welcomed with open arms among them.

Annabeth, on the other hand, was Percy's rock like he had been hers before the War. It was to her that he turned for comfort and a person to listen to much like he was to her about her various projects that she was willing to set aside immediately to listen to he Seaweed Brain. The companionship between them had increased to more than what it was, more than a GF/BF relationship, more than lovers (though they had yet to go that far, especially without the approval of Athena). It wasn't something that could be explained but when one thought of the myth that man and woman were originally one being of great power before Zeus, in fear of that power, sundered them apart and the two halves would now endlessly search for the other... It was a thought had a great deal sense in regards to the possibility of soul mates.

Either way, Percy was now a different person, forged through the crucible of battle, pain and sorrow, coming out changed, harder but stronger. Leaving only the Hero that he is.

Percy smiled softly again as his sister finished her milk before he lifted her over his cloth covered shoulder. With a few pats to her small rump and burping sound was heard as she finished her meal.

"There we go," he said softly as he brought her back before him, still humming as she began to fall asleep, her little stomach finally full.

He chuckled at her fluttering eyes as slowly and gently placed her in the ship-like cradle, a gift from their father, that lay beside his bed that slowly began to rock as the sounds and scents of the sea relaxed her, sending her almost straight to sleep.

Percy smiled softly at one of the joys of his life, his tired eyes showing contentment as he watched her sleep cutely.

"Rest well," he whispered as he leaned to kiss her brow.

It was the atmosphere of contentment that prevented him from reacting in time.

As he touched her brow his instincts screamed in warning. He tried to whirl around to face the adversary that was about to attack, his hand whipping toward his sword, only to be too late late as a white masked assailant stabbed forward with a thin needle like blade that punctured his neck. Stumbling backward and choking, he still managed to strike out at the intruder with his fist, his panic and terror adding enough power to the strike to crush the skull, send him flying with the retracted needle in his spidery paw into the wall and kill the masked foe.

Only to see it melt into a mound of clay.

Percy's eyes widened even more as he held his throat, now bereft of the needle and bleeding only lightly, and attempted to step forward, only to stumble forward, his limbs suddenly numb and heavy.

'Poison' he snarled to himself as the shadows began to cloud his vision and his other senses waver out of focus like a badly tuned radio.

His last thoughts before darkness took him were far from complimentary.

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_"Damn you to the Styx, you fucking weasel!" A female voice screeched_.

Percy felt his head throb like a church bell as he slowly returned to the land of the living.

_"Such foul words from such a lady." The voice spoke humorously, "not something I expected from the Goddess of Wisdom, Athena,"_

Athena, Percy thought wonderingly. His mind still dazed from the the drug.

_"Fuck you, coward," she growled, "come out of the shield and say that!"_

_Mocking laughter rang out._

_"One doesn't give up an advantage once they have it, o wise one," the male voice responded with a smirk hidden in his tone._

Shield? Percy began to think that everything had gone straight to the Pit.

_"What do you want, Titan," a voice spoke, male, deep and rumbling, like thunder in the distance_

_It was the voice of Zeus._

Now Percy was panicking as struggled to open his eyes and move his body, even if it felt like the sky was once more on his shoulders. Sort of.

_"Nothing that you can grant, o King," the Titan chuckled, "only the boy can grant my... Request."_

_Thump. Rumble. The earth shook for a moment._

_"And what can my son grant to you, Prometheus?" Another male voice snarled, deep and booming, carrying with it the force of the waves striking the rocks. It was familiar to the boy._

Dad? Percy struggled harder, his eyes finally opening to the twilight of sunset, his sight still blurred. His arms and body, however, still refused to move.

_"Oh nothing much," Prometheus, the Titan of Foresight spoke idly, "just a little bit of vengeance and death. You know how it is,"_

_A rattling of chains and stumbling steps followed by muffled swearing was heard._

_"After all you understand the meaning vengeance, don't you?" The voice of of the Fire Thief was now harder, crueler, "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,"_

_A sharp crack of flesh on flesh filled the air, followed screams of anger from various gods and others as well as the thump of something heavy meeting the ground with force._

_"A life for a life," the Titan finished._

_"Annabeth!" Screamed Athena._

That name brought life and shock to his body, despite his trembling, he slowly brought himself to his knees, the reason for his almost unmoving arms shown by the staked out and tightly stretched chains of celestial bronze around them, attached to manacles around his thick but nimble wrists.

His eyes were also, finally, able to focus on what was happening. Only for his heart to freeze.

Around him was a transparent golden shield that encompassed the entire of the floor of the Amphitheatre, stretching up to create a dome that reached above the top floor of the same. Outside of it he was able to identify all of the Olympians and the vast majority of the camp that periodically banged on the golden wall, only for it to stay solid, separating the inside from the outside world.

The Big Three stood in the centre of the divine host, anger and rage by various degrees filling their visage. Poseidon most of all. The twins, Hermes, Athena and, surprisingly, Dionysus also looked like thunder clouds, even as they mostly held themselves in check.

"You misbegotten son of a piebald mangy scabrous goat!" Athena roared as she struck the golden shield with a thunderous punch that did nothing.

Mostly.

The others, along with the demigods as the other residents of the Camp also looked far from happy.

It was what was happening inside the shield that had him feeling like ice ran in his veins.

Standing in the centre with his back to Percy, completely at ease in his tuxedo, was Prometheus. Even if the child of Poseidon couldn't see his scarred face, the tuxedo and size of the Titan were fairly distinctive.

In his large meaty hands was a long chain that led to the fallen, unmoving and gagged form of a blond female. One that was achingly familiar to him.

It was Annabeth.

The thought of her being harmed lent strength to his limbs as he strained against the immensely strong metal. His blood now pounding in his veins and ears filled with the ringing sound of rage. He voiced his efforts with a roar.

"**ARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH**!"

The voice shook the air as he strained, surprising those outside the barrier as they turned their attention to him.

Prometheus never even moved and only spoke with a light tone of cruel joy.

"Ah, the hero awakens!" He spoke not turning, "such strong lungs your son has, Poseidon"

"Prometheus!," Percy thundered, his voice still raging despite his failure of breaking the chains.

"That is Indeed my name, young sir" the ancient being mocked, "please, don't wear it out."

Perseus voice became a deep hiss as his heaving chest slowly returned to normal from the strain.

"Pray you have not killed her, bastard" Percy hissed, his voice bordering as inhuman as his enraged face, " or else..."

"Or else what?!" The fire bringer interrupted as he spun to the captured child of sea, showing a wide smile of glee and a sight that caused Perseus to once more freeze in shock and horror.

Cradled in the crook of the tall beings arm, her eyes wide and slightly fearful, seemingly understanding the danger she was in despite her very young age, was the small fragile form of Zoe Opis Jackson.

The Titan's grin grew even more evil as he looked upon the terrified face of the one that had killed his brother, Epimetheus, not something he would truly be angry about, he actually didn't like his abysmally foolish brother much, but it was the principal of the matter.

Not to mention the boy made him look like a fool when he managed, by some form of dumb luck (he had momentarily thought the boy was letting Tyche herself ride him like a wild horse, a fair few of the female demigods, and some males, had photographic evidence that he was hung like one after all), defeat, kill and destroy the leader of the side he thought would win.

This brought shame to his title of 'sage of foresight'. Something that he would rectify this day.

"Such a young and beautiful child," he mock cooed, gently attempting to tickle the chin of the babe that kept shying away from from the finger of the cruel immortal, "quite strong too if what I sense is correct."

Chains rattled again and as Percy once more tried to break the bonds that held him, his voice silent as he focused his strength on breaking them. He even attempted to use his powers, only to feel them slip from his grasp time and again. Every time he did so the chains seemed to flash green for a moment.

"I wouldn't bother, boy" the immortal commented as he gently placed the baby in a small nest of blankets a little ways away from the unmoving daughter of wisdom, "I had those chains crafted by some of the telekhines that escaped the retaliation of your little campers after the war. They are specifically made to cancel out any power of the sea. Essentially, your gifts you have through the blood of your father will not work."

"What do you want?" Percy growled, not stopping from struggling in his bindings, his face growing more twisted in rage and hate. Even some of the older campers were growing a bit frightened of the face he had. The gods were still attempting to get through, to no avail, but even they took note of the seaspawn's twisted mask.

Prometheus was silent for moment, looking at the captive male for a moment with quiet amusement before answering.

"Do you know what it means to be a hero, Jackson?" Prometheus asked, surprising his audience with the apparent non-sequitur, "it means that you must sacrifice the one or the few in order to help the many. Something you have struggled with due to your personal loyalty. Though you have managed to overcome it slightly it is still part of the very make up of your soul."

Percy a deep pit in his stomach form into a ball of ice as the Titan spoke.

"However, there are those who are able to believe that the few and the one are greater than many, mainly those who believe that their cause is righteous enough that the many are not needed or irrelevant to the few.

"Much like myself."

Prometheus gestured over the two females on the ground and two large black spears appeared, point down, ten feet above them both. To Percy they seemed to radiate a feeling of hunger and desire for blood. Like rabid wolves on a cotton leash.

"These spears, once again crafted by the telekhines, are able absorb the base metaphysical power that lies within all those of divine parentage, the inheritance from your divine parent to a greater or lesser extent and give it to the weapon's master, in this case me. Of course since such gifts lie within the soul of the individual the victim ends up having their soul destroyed utterly as a soul cannot survive being fractured."

Prometheus seemed to grin slightly as he watched the terror on the young man's face increase by an order of magnitude.

"You asked me what I want, Jackson? Here is my answer. Those chains are able to be broken if you put everything you have into it , but, at the same time, I will let those spears fall. You do not have the speed to cover the distance between both of those weapons, so you will have to choose."

He held both of his hands like a set of scales.

"Will you save your paramour, your other half?" He spoke as he raised his left hand, "Or will you save your innocent baby sister that, no doubt, has a great destiny before her." He continued raising his right hand.

"Tell me, o Great Hero of Olympus. What would a true hero choose and what will _you_ choose?"

Prometheus laughed with cruel joy as he stood right in the middle of the each of the three others in the Golden Dome he created. His laughter grew louder as he heard the roars of rage from from outside. It grew even more as he saw the slumped shoulders of the captured seaspawn.

It was truly a wonderful day to be a Titan.

Percy felt his heart break. He couldn't choose and if he didn't choose they would both be destroyed. Not death, destruction. Oblivion. Something he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy.

Except for Prometheus.

His mind raced for answer. His kept struggling and pulling.

'If only I was stronger, if only I was faster. If only I was better then I wouldn't be in this joke of choice.' He thought.

'**And what if you were?**,' a voice spoke, watery and dual toned, from within his mind, '**what would you do then**?' It questioned.

Not bothering to try and figure out where it came from he swiftly answered, 'I would save them both and crush my enemy!'

The voice paused for a moment and seemed to chuckle, its tone still distorted and twisted,** 'An interesting answer, for a boy who has only fought with a sheathed sword, who has never raised his blade with intent to kill, who does not have the instinct to fight.'**

'I have fought,' Percy retorted, 'I have killed,'

'**And yet it was never your first option, even when your sword was drawn**,' it spat back, **'a sword is meant for only one purpose, boy. To kill your enemy. Not to injure, not to incapacitate. To kill. By drawing your blade without that purpose, without that focus or drive, you left yourself weaker. Look where that has got you!**!'

Percy was silent a moment, memories of using his beloved and honoured blade and found that the voice had a point. He may have killed but he did not set out to kill. He may have fought but he did not attack unless given no choice, always preferring to defend or aid his friends.

'**You see now**,' it spoke, '**your instinct wasn't there, only the skill that was learned through training, training and more training. Now your training is useless, unless you have the instinct. Something that you have suppressed for a very long time.**'

Percy's mental eyebrows rose as a thought came to him.

It responded with needing him to voice the thought.

'**Indeed I am your instinct, the part of you that tells you to go for throat, to have no mercy for your foes, your desire to spill the blood of your enemies, the will to fight and fight and fight until you can battle no more. And now, at your moment of powerlessness, I extend to you the hand of friendship. Let me out completely, o ruler of this flesh, and I will save those precious to you and crush that fool beneath my heel. What do you choose?"**

Prometheus smirked with amusement, the boy was slumped in his chains, knowing that whatever he chose to do, he would lose. He drew a deep breath to taste the despair of the man child. It was a delight to his sadistic soul.

Movement drew his attention as the boy rattled the chains again, his callused hands gripping the slightly sharp chains hard enough for him to bleed, his body tensed and visibly shaking, ready to explode into movement.

The thief of flames leaned forward slightly, eagerly anticipating the moment the chains would break so as to break the boy's spirit in turn. In fact, he decided to give a bit of... encouragement.

"Hurry up, Jackson," he called, "or my grip on the spears may just...slip."

That got a reaction. Just not the one he was expecting. One that no one expected in fact.

A sudden feeling of menace, power and hunger filled the air, like a predator had been let loose and was spoiling for a fight and a kill.

The kid's shoulders began to shake more and more violently before he threw back his and roared with a blood thirsty laughter, his face twisted into insane glee.

He was suddenly glowing a bright, poisonous green. His grip on the chains tightened further before, with a massive pull, the chains shattered.

Unnerved, Prometheus immediately dropped his mental hold on the hovering weapons, letting them fall towards their helpless victims, confident that the boy would be unable to save them both despite his power.

Only for him to be utterly shocked along with the audience in attendance at what happened next.

The Beast that was Percy didn't waste (much) time celebrating his freedom. His mate and child were in danger. He stepped forward and blurred with a sudden boom towards his child, scooping her up and booming once more towards his mate and doing the same. His final boom placed him right next to the stunned Olympians as he shoved his other half's (and therefore his) precious people through the barrier into the arms of the Wisdom Goddess.

"**_Look after them_**," he growled distortedly, the side effects of his emergence making themselves known, his now gold on black slitted eyes piercing the goddess' own, giving the silent message of 'or else'. With his family now safe he turned with purpose to fulfill his last small task.

The utter destruction of his enemy.

Not giving the enemy a moment to recover from his gaping disbelief, he rocketed forward, pushing off the ground hard enough to leave substantial crater. As he practically flew towards the stunned adversary, he swiftly drew his favoured blade Anaklusmos from its pen form to the three foot blade that had served his other half for so long. Prometheus had just begun to recover from his shock when the blade was swinging for his neck for the Titan to leap into an ungainly backwards roll, barely avoiding the viciously sharp blade.

The Beast didn't give an inch as chased down the continuously rolling immortal, the ancient being's only saving grace being the momentary premonitions that barely allowed him to see and dodge the deadly blows, let alone counter or retaliate.

It was a battle that had many of those watching not believing what they saw. Perseus had the Titan on the back foot from the word go. His speed was ridiculous as he almost seemed to teleport around the arena and his strength was enough to leave shockwaves in the air that generated a fair amount of physical force, even if he missed his target. This was not normal battle, for all it was between a half-blood and a Titan. Perseus was doing things not possible for any demigod.

It was inhuman.

Dionysus was the first to notice it, however. His domain of insanity and madness giving him a great deal of insight into the workings of the mind. What Athena learned through knowledge, Dionysus knew through instinct.

"Something is not right," The Lord of wine grumbled, looking carefully at the battle, if one could call a game of cat and mouse a battle.

"What was your first clue?" Athena snapped as she checked over her daughter with Zoe cradled awkwardly in her other arm.

"I'm not referring to this whole show, sister," he retorted, "I'm talking about the boy."

"What do you sense, my son" Zeus spoke intently, his eyes never wavering from the fight that was now gradually increasing in pace as the wretched Titan began to compensate for the boy's abilities by accessing more of his own divine abilities.

"Madness," he responded simply, his face serious, "hatred, rage beyond knowing, joy at freedom and a desire- no, a need - to kill and destroy his foe. Its like listening to one of the minds of my panthers taken to eleven." He shuddered slightly, "it honestly has me on edge and I have never, period, sensed anything like this before, not this strong and especially not in the mind of the pacifistic brat."

"That does not fill me with comfort, Dionysus" Artemis scowled as she tried to keep up with the speed of the combatants, now that the wretch had managed to retrieve one of his spears more by luck than anything else, as clangs of weapon meeting weapon rang out. She too felt something similar from the boy, "damn them, they are fast. I didn't know that the weasel was so skilled."

"He had to be," growled Hades, his eyes filled with a dark fire, "one of the reasons he stayed neutral in the first war was that he was one of the weakest of his kin. The smartest maybe but certainly not the strongest or the most powerful. He made up for it with skill at arms, raw speed and a streak of ruthlessness as wide as the ocean but he was still near the bottom of the pile. He wasn't fond of us but he also didn't really like the rest of his ilk either."

"In other words he was an opportunist and a vulture," muttered Hermes, his eyes glued to battle unfolding before him, his swift and keen eyes easily keeping up with them but still impressed at speed and skill shown. Though he did notice that Percy's style seemed to be more...primal and vicious than what he usually used, "keeping out of the battle himself but picking up the spoils."

"I think ya mean 'coward'," rumbled Ares, his face alight with glee as he observed the fight as the Titan rolled away from a massive blow that would have split him in twain but only left a large hole in the ground, " though the drunk is right, something is wrong with the kid. When I faced him years ago, there was no desire for him to hurt or even kill me. He has never had the true feel of warrior born and bred for violence and bloodshed. His heart was too soft. Whoever that is out there, in the punk's body no less, is leaking killing intent and bloodlust like a busted water main. That is definitely not the kid in the driver's seat." He rubbed his hands in anticipation, "I really want to have a few rounds with that bloke."

"Then who is it?" Questioned the God of the Seas, "who has replaced my son?"

Prometheus was officially in trouble. The boy, if he could call this nightmare of a warrior a boy, was driving him down, never giving an inch. His speed was better than his own by an order of magnitude, it was only his precognitive abilities that allowed him to keep up. He, the Titan of Forethought, was being used as soccer ball. Being pounded around the arena without care or thought. It was humiliating and it enraged him.

"Enough!" He roared sending out a shockwave of power that caught his assailant flat footed and sent him flying backwards only for him to quickly flip upright in midair and grind his heels into the ground in order to stop. The Beast who is Percy kept hunched over slightly his face hidden from view.

"What are you?" Prometheus snarled, low and angry, his spear shaking in his tense grip, "you are certainly not that pathetic boy, Jackson."

Everything was quiet as everyone awaited an answer.

"**_What am I_**?" The being spoke, lifting his head to reveal the face of Perseus Jackson slowly being covered by a white bone-like material, "**_I don't have a name_**!"

The being swung his sword from the distance and a distortion of the air raced toward the surprised Titan. Prometheus barely managed to dodge the barely visible projectile. A thunderous boom behind him that sent him tumbling made him glad to have done so.

But it was in that moment that the being managed to pull out his trump card.

Slowly, but quickly enough to take advantage of the Titan's slow recovery, numerous glittering motes of sea green power gathered around his out stretched hand. By the time the Titan recovered and focused on his powerful adversary, it looked like the twisted being had a cloud of green fireflies in his empty hand.

"**_Prometheus_**," the being ground out through clenched teeth, "**_you have attempted ta harm what ain't yours. Ya made a big mistake in puttin' King in a situation like this. He had a choice. Free me from the chains tat held me or let his family die. Ya knew what he chose. So reap the whirlwind, bitch!"_**

The cloud was now the size of beach ball and its power output had the 'Sage of Foresight' quivering with fear. His precognition showed only death in his future.

"**_Jade Rain of War_**!" The Beast howled and swiping the air with his clouded hand.

The green cloud whipped toward the Titan, fast and implacable, spreading out to engulf the now screaming Titan. When it struck the immortal it was a gruesome sight. The green cloud seemed to melt away divine form of Prometheus. A hand seemingly dissolved, causing screams of mortal agony to erupt from a partially missing throat. A leg disappeared making him fall writhing to the ground. Many who saw this gruesome execution where sick to their stomachs.

Yet no ichor was spilled.

It was soon over. Moments after the horrifying spell (after all what else could it be?!) had finished its terrible task... Prometheus was no more.

As its creator had passed, the Golden Dome flickered. Once. Twice. Then vanished entirely.

Leaving only a being of power and strength to look directly the people assembled before him. His gold on black slitted eyes behind an almost full faced skull like mask glaring them down, daring them to attack as he slowly advanced.

They kept themselves primed for battle but did not make the first move. To their surprise the impossible existence before them calmly returned Anaklusmos to its pen form as he came within reach of the goddess of Wisdom and plucked the babe from he arms before she could possibly move.

He gently rocked the child, amazingly asleep despite all the commotion, with a small smile. Not a grin of battle delight, a smirk of superiority or a mocking grin. Just a smile of comfort.

"**_I believe ya have some questions_**?" He spoke, his tones still warbled.

"Indeed we do." Answered the stiff and imposing King of Olympus.

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Well folks what do you think of this story?

The premise is that Percy's will to fight and kill was suppressed due to his enviroment (Gabe) and his mother's existence as an anchor. With her gone his more primal (Hollow) instincts are coming out to play like ichigo's inner hollow. This was helped by travelling to the underworld numerous times and bathing in the Styx, a river of hate. Even if he has its curse he still has vestiges of power within his soul which the hollow took advantage of. Incidentally he is the only hero to have gained the Achilles curse, lose it and survive it.  
Enemies and antagonists will be decided on later.

Also the Jade Rain of War was not a spell but a very powerful form of hydrokinesis. He essentially used the water moisture in the air to create huge amounts of miniscule high pressure water blades that could carve through steel plate. When it hit Prometheus, it was like he put in a blender set to purée..

Tell me what you think.


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